


Life At Baker Street

by Sulla



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Felching, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulla/pseuds/Sulla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5880.html?thread=23090936#t23090936">prompt</a> at the Livejournal Kinkmeme which reads as follows:</p><p>John is kneeling on the floor sucking Holmes cock enthusiastically, whether he is collared or not is up to you. Suddenly Lestrade comes in with a new case for Holmes. John wants to stop but Sherlock makes him continue while Lestrade gives Holmes the details. This of cause leaves quite an impression on Lestrade and he is assisted by a very willing Sherlock and John. <br/>Lestrade John Sherlock Sandwich with John in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life At Baker Street

Detective Inspector Lestrade was let into 221b Baker St as usual by a delighted Mrs. Hudson. After waving away offers of tea and biscuits, citing the importance of a new case for the consulting detective upstairs, he took the stairs two at a time, long coat flapping behind him. Upon finding the door to Sherlock and John's flat ajar, he tapped lightly at the heavy stained wood, standing stock-still as the door gently drifted open. Drifted open, it seemed, to something out of Lestrade's most fervent wanking fantasies.

John Watson was kneeling, fully naked, at the feet of a partially clothed Sherlock Holmes. The consulting detective was standing tall with his plum-coloured shirt open to the waist, the fabric barely clinging to his shoulders, appearing ready to drop off his arms and to the floor at any moment. He was gazing down into the eyes of his flatmate, who was kneeling at his feet. John's one hand was on Sherlock's arse, the tips of his fingers just beginning to forge their way into his cleft and the other was cradling Sherlock's sack, rolling his testicles one-handed.

From where Lestrade stood, he could barely tell where John's mouth ended and Sherlock's cock began, as John had lodged his flatmate's penis so far down his throat that barely any of it was visible to the eye, and John's nose was being tickled by Sherlock's thick thatch of inky black pubic hair. John was making low, guttural gagging and clicking noises at the back of his throat. and he was dripping saliva out of both sides of his mouth, and it pooled in a small puddle next to his knee on the floor. Throughout this, he kept his eyes directed upwards to meet Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock himself had one hand cupping John's head, his fingers running restlessly through the short hair and occasionally tracing the edge of one red-tinged ear. The other hand was on John's neck, and that was when Lestrade noticed the collar.

An inch-wide stripe of leather wrapped once around John's throat, resting just under the adam's apple, a little metal D-ring protruding from the front. It was this collar and D-ring that Sherlock was fondling as he stared deeply into John's eyes and allowed his cock to be deep-throated. For that was what he was doing: allowing it to happen. Every inch of John's body indicated his enthusiasm for the proceedings, from his desperate moaning grunts to his flushed red cheeks and the eager bobs of his head. Sherlock's hips remained still, and he watched his flatmate's efforts dispassionately.

As Lestrade watched, John pulled off of Sherlock's cock enough so that he was simply holding the head of the penis in his mouth, and he swirled his tongue around that tip, taking the opportunity to grab several quick gasps of air. He used his hand to pull Sherlock's foreskin up and over the glans of his not in-considerably-sized cock, and took the change to suck lightly on that softest of soft skin. Lestrade swallowed noisily at the sight, and instantly coloured.

The tableau before him stilled, and while both light and dark heads turned, there was no desperate grasping for clothes nor any attempt at all to hide what had been doing on. The men both just stared at Lestrade, and suddenly he was absolutely positive that both men could see through his clothes and tell that he had an erection that would put others to shame. He flushed deeper, and brought a hand up to his mouth, pretending to cough into it, shuffling his feet for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

"Uh...Sherlock," he started, and dipped his head down to meet John's eyes. "...John," he added in greeting. His mouth dried up with mortification at that moment and he really did have to cough.

This was unbelievable. Where on earth was he supposed to look? Should he leaving? What the hell had they been doing, going on like that with the door not only unlocked, but open? He tried to force himself onwards, trying just as hard to keep from staring at the roundness of John's arse and the erections both men were still sporting.

"Um, yes. There's a, a new, a new...um...case. A - a, yes, a... CASE! Ahem. That you might, uh, might be interested in." That had to be the hardest sentence he had ever had to say in his life, including the time he asked his wife for a divorce.

Both men stared at him, Sherlock expressionless, John somewhat pityingly. Sherlock continued running his hand through John's hair, rubbing his scalp, and John looked as if he were going to begin purring at any moment.

"Surely, Lestrade, that can wait for a little while?" murmured Sherlock, his eyes drifting down to Lestrade's crotch and then slowly back up to meet his eyes. Lestrade felt that his face and his dick must be fighting a battle to the death over which was to get the most blood.

Slowly the words soaked into his consciousness and he jerked physically at the implication of what the man had said. "Oh. OH! I can come back later, if you, uh, want," he offered, sure that Sherlock wanted him gone so that he could continue his session with John, who had now stopped and was looking at the DI as well.

"No no, you're right, go on, tell me about it."

Lestrade watched as John sat back and stared up at Sherlock. "Uh, Sherlock, maybe we should stop for a bit?"

"No. Get back to it."

"But..."

"No. Suck me, John."

Lestrade would have stepped in at this point if he had not seen the look of absolute bliss on John's face at the denial. John went right back to doing what he had been doing, and within minutes Lestrade was sharing with the half-naked Sherlock the story of two missing attache cases, containing nationally important documents. Lestrade was amazed at how well Sherlock seemed to grasp the intricacies of the case, considering what John Watson was doing with his tongue. Lestrade wrapped up the details as he knew them, and dropped the files in question on the coffee table.

"I should leave you alone now," muttered Lestrade, seeing how Sherlock had gained quite a rosy glow to his cheeks and his breath was now coming in gasps.

Sherlock gave him one of those looks that made him feel five years old. "Get in here, Lestrade, and shut the door behind you, will you? Lock it please, there's a good man."

Lestrade obeyed the consulting detective without thought, and turned the latch in the door so that no one else could stumble into the flat unawares. Standing just inside the door, he watched still as Sherlock grabbed his own cock and lifted John's head by pressure on the short, bristly hair, prompting the smaller man to open his mouth again to accept Sherlock's dick, which he did with great avidity.

As John went to work again on Sherlock's cock, Sherlock was now staring at Lestrade. His eyes went from his face to his crotch and then back again.

"You're liking what you're seeing, Lestrade?"

"What? ...uh, well...that is..."

"You can answer freely here, Lestrade. We won't judge you for it, will we, John?" Sherlock asked of the kneeling man, who hummed around Sherlock's cock.

"See, he doesn't mind either. So: do you like it?"

"Yes," whispered the DI, "it's... very..."

"Hot, yes. As is John's mouth. Would you like to give him a try?"

Lestrade was jerked out of his contemplation of John's admirable fellatio technique by this question. "What? No! Of course not, I mean... it's not like he wants to..."

"Nonsense. Here," replied Sherlock, "let me ask him. John? Would you like to suck Detective Inspector Lestrade's cock? Hmm? What do you say?"

Lestrade watched with eyes wide as those devotion-filled eyes now turned to take Lestrade in, and a definite edge of excitement was obviously evident.

"Mmmmmm," he replied, nodding his head, causing Sherlock's cock to bob up and down with his motions.

Sherlock smiled winningly at Lestrade. "That's settled then." He then pulled out of John's mouth and took him by the collar and pulled, forcing John to cross over on all fours to where Lestrade stood by the door, cock bobbing as he moved, and placing him directly in front of the man.

"You know what to do, John," Sherlock whispered, with a wink and wicked smile to Lestrade

Sherlock himself leaned back against the door frame as he watched, slowing wanking as he watched John set to work. The doctor's nimble, quick hands unbuckled his belt and lowered both his trousers and pants down to mid-thigh within seconds. The second Lestrade's cock was free of its' cotten enclosure, it bobbed straight up, the tip of it hitting John on the cheek, leaving a sizable dab of pre-come on the man's face. Lestrade almost apologized, but as soon as he opened his mouth to do so, Sherlock hushed him without a word. He soon saw why.

As soon as the cock before him was free, John Watson began what any other man might have called 'cock worship'. He felt every inch of Lestrade's dick with his fingers and then with the soft, soft skin of his upper lip, grasping the long thick penis in one hand and rubbing the length of it all over his face. He played with Lestrade's foreskin, slipping his tongue under the soft bit of skin and pulled it forward, then circled his tongue, causing the most delightful sensations Lestrade had ever experienced in regard to his cock. It was absolutely _amazing_ , what the man could do.

Lestrade was in serious danger of coming very soon, and the way John was working him, it was as if the man wanted nothing more than to taste Lestrade's come crossing his tongue. But after a few more moments, Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder, and the gorgeous suction enveloping Lestrade's cock was gone. He nearly whimpered with the loss.

Sherlock grinned at him. "We don't want to end the show before it's even started, do we?"

Lestrade smiled weakly back at him, and was surprised to hear John also answer back in the negative. He looked down at the doctor, who was gazing at both of them, one after the other, in what looked like eagerness from his spot at the feet of the detectives.

Sherlock immediately took control.

"Lestrade, go sit on the sofa, please," he intoned, and taking the time to pull up his trousers enough to walk, and then to take off his overcoat and drape it over one of the armchairs, Lestrade meandered over to the sofa and sat, trousers and pants open, his cock a long, red exclamation point sticking out of his crotch, surrounded by black pubic hair streaked with grey. He looked across to where Sherlock was still standing and John kneeling, and was gratified to see John's face looking greedy as he stared at Lestrade's exposed dick.

Again, Sherlock took John by the collar and pulled him right up in front of Lestrade, still on his hands and knees. John went straight to work, sucking and licking at Lestrade's cock, carefully lifting his hips to help pull down the trousers and pants again, this time to his knees, and then cupped the DI's balls in his hand. He alternated long, hard sucks on Lestrade's prick with gentle sucking of his balls, and after lifting them up, nuzzling at his perineum with his nose. Lestrade was fast reaching the point of no return once again, and Sherlock had to pull back on John's collar to stop him. Still, John fought it, stretching his neck out so reach Lestrade's cock, unwilling to give up his treat so easily. Finally, Sherlock had to yank back on the collar, lightly, to remind him who was in charge.

"John, behave."

John smiled wickedly up at Sherlock without a word.

"Oh you bad thing. You should be careful, or you won't get your favorite treat this time!"

Lestrade watched as John's face fell. John sat back on his haunches, politely waiting to be told what to do next. Sherlock and Lestrade shared a smile.

Sherlock crossed to a bowl on the counter and pulled out a tube of what appeared to be lubricant. He tossed it to Lestrade, and told him to slick himself up. Lestrade did so without question. He passed the bottle back to Sherlock.

Sherlock then grabbed John's collar again and pulled him up. "Hand and knees now, John, thank you," he said, expecting fully to be obeyed.

John happily obliged him. Lestrade watched as Sherlock slicked several fingers with lubricant, and held his own breath as two of those fingers were driven deeply into John Watson's arse, without so much as a 'by your leave'. Not that these two needed consent discussions at this point; if the pair of them didn't have a set of rules a metre long and a safeword or two, he was a city sewer worker. John moaned aloud as the two fingers plunged in and out of his body, and worked his arse back onto the digits. Lestrade could see strings of pre-come dripping from the doctor's cock and sticking to the floor.

A third and fourth finger were added, and John apparently had no complaint. He groaned happily at the fullness, and Lestrade took himself in hand and wanked a few times, playing with his foreskin as Sherlock used his free hand to now slick up his own cock.

Sherlock stroked a hand down John's back, and took a moment to reach under him and stroke his cock, then reaching back and tweaking the skin of his sack. "You're a good boy, John, yes you are; you deserve your treat today. Isn't it wonderful that Detective Inspector Lestrade happened to come by? It's quite the day for you, isn't it John?"

These words were a mystery to Lestrade for the time being, but he just shrugged it aside as more evidence of the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes.

"Up then, John," commanded Sherlock, "up on his lap."

John didn't hesitate. He clambered on top of Lestrade, straddling his hips, and Lestrade could feel the doctor's balls slapping against his own cock as he hovered there for a moment. His cock pulsed at the sensation. Suddenly, however, there was a cool hand on his cock, rolling a condom onto him, and then he realized that Sherlock was holding Lestrade's cock upwards for John to impale himself upon. And impale himself John did.

Lestrade felt the heat of the man's tight body enveloping him inch by clenching inch, and did his best not to come on contact. Above him John's lean but muscular chest was inviting him to touch it, and after giving a quick glance to Sherlock, who nodded, for permission, he brought his hands up to tweak John's nipples and run his hands down his sides. Finally, having waited long enough for John to lower himself, he grabbed John's hips and pulled him down forcefully, shoving upwards with his own hips at the same time. John gasped, "Oh!" and his cock pulsed, slapping upwards against his own belly.

Lestrade was not in the least paying attention to what Sherlock was doing. All he felt was the tight binding heat surrounding his prick, and his mind was rattling back and forth all over the place, images of John through the months that he had known him coming back to him in a flood. Never, never in his life would Lestrade ever have guessed that he would be in the position he was now. He gripped John's hips even harder, hoping to make bruises, hoping to make his mark on this small man's body.

He had completely forgotten about Sherlock, but that did not last for long. Suddenly John was pushed forward against Lestrade's chest, and at first the DI thought that John was trying to kiss him. But John avoided Lestrade's mouth when he tried, and instead buried his head in the crook of his neck, lipping at the DI's earlobe.

John's hips had come to a stop, and it was then that Lestrade felt the finger circling the stretched skin around his cock, trying to find a way in _with_ his cock. Lestrade was shocked.

"Sherlock," started Lestrade, "you don't... you don't mean to..."

"Yes, both of us, Lestrade. He can take it. He loves it! Ask him," directed Sherlock, who, having wriggled one finger in beside Lestrade's prick was now trying to find space for a second.

John was still nibbling at Lestrade's neckline, so he couldn't look the man in the eye, but his voice next to his ear spoke volumes.

"He's right," whisper John throatily, "I love it. I want you both in me. At once. Now."

With this final word, John clenched his body down on Lestrade's cock and Sherlock's two fingers, the second of which had slipped in while the doctor had been answering the question. Lestrade stroked John's back over and over and then slipped a hand between their bellies and found John's cock still fully hard. Lestrade squeezed and released it over and over, drawing moans from the man above him

Lestrade new something was coming when suddenly the tightness holding his cock was gone, and John was loose all around him. Sherlock had pulled all of his fingers out - and he had manged to push four in there. But John was not feeling empty for long; Sherlock straddled Lestrade's legs and pulled up behind John, feeding the tip of his cock into John's arsehole.

Just the tip of Sherlock's considerably sized cock slipped inside, and John was growling low against Lestrade's neck.

"Relax, John," soothed Sherlock, "you know you have to relax. Let me in."

Lestrade continued stroking John's sides and back, hoping to ease the passage of Sherlock's cock into his body. Lestrade himself was feeling somewhat giddy; he had never felt such tightness around his cock before and he wasn't sure what to do with it. His hips wanted to thrust into it, but he didn't want to damage John, so with clenched teeth he held still.

Finally, after several long minutes, Sherlock had his cock inside John's body to the hilt. John was moaning wordlessly and Lestrade was going to explode if he didn't start moving soon. But finally John's body eased up on them a little bit, and Sherlock was the one who made the first move, pulling slightly out and then pushing back in again. The feeling was exquisite: the tightness of John's body paired with the friction of another cock rubbing against him inside that tightness. The next time was even easier, and he and Sherlock were soon able to build a rhythm together, one pulling out as the other pushed in.   
Surprisingly, it was Sherlock who came first. Perhaps it was unsurprising though, as he had been the one receiving stimulation the longest, and he was the one who was able to thrust more freely than anyone else. Either way, he shoved himself into John's stretched hole as far as he could and ejaculated. Lestrade could feel every twitch and every pulse, and felt the man's semen gush into the cavity, coating them both.

Sherlock moaned a little, just sliding his cock lightly in and out as Lestrade and John held still, reveling at the wetness and tightness surrounding him. These movements, grazing directly over John's prostate, sent John over the edge himself, and Lestrade's chest was coated with the doctor's semen. More important than that, John's arsehole began to clench involuntarily with the spasms of his orgasm, sending a ripple of intense sensation down the length of both men. The sensation was a little too much for Sherlock, who soon pulled out, but it was just right for Lestrade, who came with such explosive force that he thought he was going to black out. He didn't, of course, but the orgasm went on and on, and after Sherlock had pulled out, Lestrade was left flexing his pulsing dick in a hole filled with come. It was delectable.

Sherlock was down on his knees now, behind John, and Lestrade couldn't see what he was doing. Lestrade's own cock was wilting now, and fell out of John's hole of it's own accord, but John still lay motionless on the DI's chest, seemingly unable, or unwilling, to move. Lestrade kept up the stroking of his back and it wasn't until he heard a gentle slurping noise that he found out what was going on.

Sherlock was knelt behind John, staring at John's gaping hole, a hole larger than it had any right to be. It tried to wink shut over and over, trying to close down onto nothing, and a trickle of their mixed semen was dripping out of the orifice. Sherlock was licking it up as it exited John's body, running his tongue around the edge of the open hole, latching his mouth to cover the hole and then sucking. John moaned loudly at this, shivering all over, and Lestrade watched with wide eyes as Sherlock sat back, swallowing, lips covered with come, to lock eyes with Lestrade and smile.

Sherlock stood to climb up onto the sofa next to Lestrade.

"Give him to me," Sherlock said in a low voice, and Lestrade helped John, who appeared exhausted, clamber over the DI and then over until he was lying on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock kissed John long and hard, with much tongue, and Sherlock brought his hands up to take the collar off the doctor.

John then turned his head and smiled at Lestrade happily and finally buried his face into Sherlock's neck to rest again. Sherlock took Lestrade's hand, and the three of them lay there on the sofa as the sun went down behind the blinds.


End file.
